


Wrong number

by JauntyHako



Category: Supernatural
Genre: College!AU, Ex-inmate!Gadreel, I can't not write Gadreel angsty, I'm Sorry, M/M, no i'm not
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-06
Updated: 2014-12-06
Packaged: 2018-02-28 09:44:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2727710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JauntyHako/pseuds/JauntyHako
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for this AU!prompt: “Hey you called this number at like 3AM and we talked about some pretty heavy shit do you remember any of that?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wrong number

**Author's Note:**

> There may be a day where I will be able not to have raging feels about Gadreel. It is not this day. My headcanon for no angels AUs is that Gadreel was wrongly imprisoned for some time.

 

„It's just so hard, you know? People always look at you and they judge you. It doesn't matter if you helped that old lady cross the street. If they know you were in prison they think you're gonna rob her. No one cares that you're a veteran anymore. Used to be people looked at me and I told them about my service, they would be proud of me. Sure, there were always assholes reciting that whole soldiers are murderers litany, but they were the exception. Now I'm a murderer to everyone. Doesn't matter what I've done to sit, I'm just this criminal who can't be trusted.“

 

Sam switched the phone to his other ear and rolled over on his stomach. His room was dark, the only sound except for the guy's voice at the other end the sound of Dean snoring in the next room.

He had gotten a call in the middle of the night, pulled from blissful sleep. Turned out the guy just had the wrong number. When Sam asked which number he had _tried_ to reach, he'd had already a good guess, so he didn't press when everything that came forward was mumbling. It wasn't the first time something like this happened. Not the first time it happened at three a.m either.

His mobile number was almost the same as the local suicide hotline. A mistake easily made when your vision was hazy with tears and your hands shook.

 

„You served?“ Sam asked, hoping that the pride he heard was indeed there.

 

„Yeah. Before … well. I volunteered at 17. Had to be the only time my Dad was ever proud of me. Mum tried to get me into college and maybe I should have gone. Dunno. Now I don't have any education. Sure as hell doesn't help when all employers see only ex-inmate anyway.

But it was a good time, you know? I felt useful and … okay, it sounds weird, but it felt like I was helping people, you know? It wasn't all seek and destroy. There was this girl in Kabul, twelve years old. This one evening we are on patrol and she comes running up to us, a whole bunch of guys behind her. They stop when they see us, you know, and this girl hides behind me and screams something at the guys and they turn tail. You know what she said?“  
  


„No.“ Sam said, smiling a little. The guy on the other hand laughed. It was a nice laugh.

 

„Yeah, of course not. Sorry. Well, she turns around to me and says thank you in her broken English. These guys were after he because she didn't wear a hijab and they beat up her father for allowing her. So that evening instead of running home she looked for some soldiers. And when she hid behind us she told these guys to fuck off because I was her older brother and I'd protect her.“

 

There was a short pause. Sam heard him swallow, taking a deep breath.

 

„She trusted you.“ Sam said and added, when the guy on the other end seemed to stricken to speak: „I bet she still would. Look, sometimes we fuck up and we sit for that. And yeah, people look at you differently. But I believe you can make something out of your life. You sound like a really decent guy and it'd be a shame if some judgmental assholes ruined that.“

 

He paused, but only for a second.

 

„Have you tried applying for college? There's still time for this year's term.“

 

„Dunno. Always thought I'm too stupid for college. Stupid enough to get myself into prison, anyway.“

 

„Well, you don't know unless you try. Look, I have all the application forms on my phone. I could send them to you if you like.“

 

This time the other guy's laugh was heavy with tears.

 

„You just have that stuff ready in case some stranger calls at 3 a.m.?“

 

„Nah. I applied myself, that's why. If you're worried about the money there are programs for veterans and ex-inmates to help you get in. Scholarships and all that. Maybe you can use them?“

 

Another bit of silence, long enough that Sam worried he had said something offensive after all and caused his late night conversation partner to hang up on him.

 

„No, money's not a problem. My family will pay for everything as long as I don't come home anymore. … I think I'm gonna try. Can't be worse than getting rejections for job resumes, huh?“

 

„That's the right attitude.“

 

„Yeah. Hey, thanks. For listening. You really didn't have to. Especially this late.“

 

„Don't mention it. Just … do me a favour and save my number? And if you need to talk again, you call me.“

 

„You sure? Even though, I'm … well, you know. Prison trash.“

 

„Yeah, I'm sure. You can save it under 'Sam'.“

 

He promised to save his number and said good bye shortly after. Sam put his phone away, dead tired but also strangely satisfied. He never got the guy's name, but it didn't really matter.

 

 

 

Two months later he started community college, making fast friends with half the class already. Most of them stood together in groups, trading phone numbers, names, addresses and trivial facts about each other. Most of the students were in Sam's age, around 17 to 20. One guy caught his eye, though.

He sat by himself, apart from the other groups. Where almost everyone had discarded their light jackets – and in some cases their shirts as well – he was almost buried in his leather jacket, his huge frame hunched over. He looked positively skittish. It wasn't a word Sam would have ever associated with a man sporting a jawline you could cut diamonds with, but there it was. Leaving the group behind he walked over.

 

„Hey. You look a bit lonely all by yourself. Wanna come over?“

 

The guy shook his head. He had to be at least in his mid-twenties, perhaps older. Maybe he felt uncomfortable hanging around a bunch of kids.

 

„Don't want to impose.“

 

„You wouldn't. Come on. My name's Sam.“

 

The guy's head shot up as if he had just been shot. He stared at Sam who smiled crookedly, trying to figure out what he had done to warrant that reaction. Instead of an explanation, he got a name.

 

„Gadreel. I mean, that's my name. Nice to meet you, Sam.“

 

He did come over then, introducing himself to the people Sam had already made friends with. Kevin was the first to compare Sam to a moose. The nickname stuck. Sam knew it would. It was always the embarrassing ones.

 

After class – or rather short periods of class in between introduction by the teachers as well as the principal's speech and a tour of the place – most of the group decided to go out to a bar. Sam, who had watched Gadreel closely over the last few hours, excused them and tugged Gadreel lightly to follow him. There was a thing as too much social interaction.

They went to the park nearby, buying ice cream and walking alongside each other, comfortable in the silence after the busy day. They had rounded the park almost entirely when Gadreel spoke up.

 

„Um, I was wondering ...“ he said, clearing his throat. They sat down on a bench, eating the last of the ice cream. „If … you … I mean …“  
He broke off, blushing crimson red. Sam laughed and squeezed Gadreel's shoulder.

 

„It's okay. Take your time.“  
  


„I knew you'd be nice in real life.“ Gadreel said sheepishly. And finally the penny dropped on Sam. That was why his voice had sounded so familiar.

 

„You're ...“ Sam said, jaw dropping. „We talked, a couple of weeks ago. The veteran at 3 a.m.“

 

„Yeah. That's me. I was worried you'd forgotten. Or hoped. I don't know.“  
  


„Why hoped?“ Sam asked. He noticed that Gadreel had made no attempt to shrug off Sam's hand on his shoulder.

 

„Because you know. About me … you know?“ Gadreel laughed shakily and ruffled his hair. „Damn, this is harder to talk about in real life.“  
  


„About the prison thing.“ Sam supplied and Gadreel nodded.

 

„Yeah. I don't want to sound creepy or anything, but I've been thinking of you. Shit, that sounds creepy, coming from me. Sorry. Really, it's probably best if I just go. Thank you for … everything, but I'll -“

 

Gadreel looked as if he had never been kissed in his entire life. He didn't reciprocate but he didn't draw back either. Mostly he made the impression of trying to figure out how to deal with this situation. Sam kept the kiss chaste and drew back shortly after.

 

„It doesn't sound creepy. Especially not from you. And I've been thinking about you, too.“

 

Gadreel smiled uncertainly. But when Sam kissed him this time he kissed back.

**Author's Note:**

> Also at Tumblr ( http://chelsea-hako.tumblr.com/ ) and taking fic requests if askbox says I do.


End file.
